CAROL McMAHON
★ ★ ★ ★
POETRY
Dead Weight
My bare back
cupped by a cold, metal pan.
First days of breath
counted in ounces.
None of us escapes
appraisal.
A stone of failure;
a grain of success;
regret, a black hole
that consumes all matter.
Our tethers weaken.
Chairs empty while graves fill.
Vows break. Leave mass
enough for two to carry.
Arms strain
but knees buckle.
Fuck Atlas.
When the time comes
I’ll be glad to put it down.
Cup my back in satin and pine.
Twenty-one grams is not the weight
of a soul
but the measure
of letting go.
Carol McMahon is a teacher whose work has been published in various journals (Mom Egg Review, Painted Bride Quarterly, Stone Canoe, Poet Lore) and has a chapbook, On Any Given Day, published by FootHills Press (2006). McMahon received an MFA in Poetry from the Rainier Writing Workshop and, when she is not with 11-year-olds, spends her time either running or rowing.
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It gave me chills, thank you!
Thank YOU!
Ms.McMahon this is really inspiring!!!